


Reboot

by epithetta



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:59:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithetta/pseuds/epithetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're right," he finally admits to John, going back to their earlier argument, "it would be easier if I didn't remember."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reboot

**Author's Note:**

> Written utilising the writerinadrawer prompt 3.06—Amnesia, mention a television show, 700 words

"Oh, you are in trouble," Jack murmurs into his hand. He's stumbling through the town's version of Chippie Row, grease spilling from the smoke eaters that hang over the doors. Beside him, John skips to keep up, swinging the bat he'd nicked in a wide sword dance. 

"I break things, but no-one comes." He staggers into Jack and they chuckle a little, a lot, quite loud, and woah, Jack thinks when he realises that there are three Johns in front of him, is he drunk.

He doesn't remember how he found John, but here they are, on Thrax5 and wasted, just like old times. Cardiff is distant; everyone there, Torchwood, even the Doctor, seems like an old scar—it looks as if it had been painful to endure, but now its just an interesting story over a bar table.

They hit the town square and Jack sits on the edge of a dead fountain, one that doesn't know when to quit. 

"You're right," he finally admits to John, going back to their earlier argument, "it would be easier if I didn't remember."

John swings the bat at a statue head and sends it flying. "Tragic," he agrees. "Who wouldn't want to forget?" 

" _Fuck_ , I want to forget," Jack says, falling backwards into the fountain, filled with moss and a layer of sickly mud. 

John sits on the edge of the fountain and digs about in his jacket. Jack watches him produce something with a flourish small, pill-sized, no doubt. He sucks in a breath, and John holds his hand out. "At your service," he says. When Jack reaches for it, John pulls back. "Father knows best," he sings.

Jack closes his eyes for a second, because John's eyes are a little too bright, and the light behind him is too loud, and this isn't something he should be deciding drunk. The fountain grinds, trying to pump water that isn't there.

He opens then and gestures with his hand, palm out. "Mother, may I?" 

 

The next morning, he wakes up to find a man sucking his cock. It isn't unpleasant in the least, and he surrenders to it in the haze of sleepiness, everything warm like freshly-lit kindling. It's only after he comes that he reaches down for the head and pulls the man up by the hair.

The man slides up his body, and they lie there naked, writhing, and he doesn't mind that either, because if the man had wanted to kill him, surely he would have done it before.

"I'm—" he stops. Too many turns through the Time Agency can do this sometimes, and he can't remember which identity to pull out of the mental Rolodex. He yawns to cover the gaffe.

"You're Jack Harkness," the man says, running two fingers up Jack's chest to circle a nipple like he's zeroing in on a target. His tongue follows the aim and swipes across Jack's chest, and Jack feels as if his skin is about to explode.

"Yeah," he finally grinds out, "I'm Jack Harkness." He pauses, waiting.

The man raises an eyebrow. "They really did overdo the Retcon. I'm John Hart, your _partner_."

Jack smiles; leave it to the Agency to dose him too hard. He wonders why they did it in the first place, but then again, that's one of the things, isn't it? Not remembering? If they'd wanted him to know, then they wouldn't have dosed him. He wouldn't have taken it.

"Okay then," he sighs, because he has always been a sucker for a pretty face, or at least one as pretty as his own. Jack smiles in the film of post-Retcon aura. It will clear in a little while and he'll be back on top. 

"Are we on duty?" he murmurs.

John laughs. "After that dose? We're on indefinite leave." His hand trails down between Jack's legs, fingering his hole. "I think we can find things to do while they decide where to send us." 

Jack grabs his hair again and stares at him. John's eyes are blue, too blue when he blinks, and something stirs in Jack's mind, far far in the depths. Something he _should_ remember. 

Ah, it'll come to him eventually.

END


End file.
